Sick Day, Part 1
by Isabella
Summary: Liz gets sick.....Max takes care of her.


Title: Sick Day, Part 1

Author: Princess Passion

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything, please don't sue me.

Summary: Liz has a cold; Max takes care of her. Michael helps a little too.

Rating: PG-13, maybe. A couple of bad words and a little innuendo.

[][1]Spoilers: None really. Alternate time-line; Max and Liz are a couple; takes place during sophomore year.

Dedication: Usually, I dedicate my stories to my best bud, Cor, but this one is different. This is in honor of the brain-frying, head-numbing, nose-stuffing, throat-scratching, body-aching, mother-of-all-colds that I currently have.

Author's note: (( )) indicates thought. **'s mean scene change. This story isn't one of my best, please forgive me, I can barely see strait, there's _no way_ I can think strait.

  
  


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Liz Parker's Journal Entry: Monday, March 27, 2000- "I should have known something like this would happen. These kinds of things always happen to me, and at the worst possible times. Every time something good, which I've been looking forward to, happens, I seem to get deathbed sick. And that's where I am right now, I feel like I'm on my deathbed. We're not talking a light cough and a little sniffle, we're dealing with a full blown, gigantic cold from hell. Even now, when I'm looking at the word, cold, it just doesn't seem to express the way I'm feeling at this very moment. I have a stuffy, running nose, I'm sneezing so hard, I fear I might break a rib or something, I'm burning up on the outside, but freezing on the inside, due to the wonderful100 degree fever that's boiling my brain, I can't move because of the aching muscles striking pain in every sector of my body, my throat is on fire, and it's not helping one bit that I can't stop coughing long enough to catch my breath. Oh, and did I mention, I can't breathe?"

  
  


Liz stopped writing and let out a labored, miserable groan. She slowly dragged herself from her spot on her bed, and lazily padded down the hallway, toward the kitchen. Once there, she poured herself a glass of cold, clear water, and took two large cold pills. She put the glass down when she was finished, and turned to look at the clock on the wall. ((10:00 in the morning, on the first official day of spring break, and I'm stuck at home, with an awful cold. This sucks.)) She thought to herself, calmly. She turned around again, and started down the hall to her room, to write some more in her journal. She passed by the stereo and turned it on. The song, "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely," by the Backstreet Boys lilted out of the speakers.

  
  


**_"Show me the meaning of being lonely, is this the feeling I need to walk with, tell me why I can't be there where you are; there's something missing in my heart . . . "_**

  
  


"To make all of this worse I'm all alone," Liz scribbled, "Max is in California with Isabel and their parents, for spring break. He left yesterday, and I wish I was with him. My parents left Saturday to go to Hawaii for a second honeymoon. Perfect timing, don't ya think? The café is closed until they get back, and I have the building all to myself. Maria and her mom are in Albuquerque, doing some shopping and the mother-daughter bonding thing. She'll be back in a few days, and that's good, because I need something _other_ than a notebook to complain to. Alex went on vacation to _Louisiana_. I don't know why his parents picked Louisiana, of all places, but, that's where he is, until Friday. The only person who actually stayed in town, besides me, is Michael. I guess I could hang with him for a few days, but 1- I'm contagious, and 2- I get the feeling he doesn't really like me all that much. So, there's my situation, in all it's dullness." 

Just as she finished writing, the phone rang. She rolled off the bed, and hobbled the few feet to her desk, where the phone was. "Hello . . . " she said into the phone, trying not to sound as bad as she felt.

  
  


"Liz?" the voice asked worriedly on the other end.

  
  


"Yep, it's me," she answered, still trying to mask the sickness in her voice. She knew exactly who it was, and she didn't want him to worry about her.

  
  


"Liz, baby, you sound horrible," Max told her gently. He could tell the minute she picked up the phone that something was wrong. She sounded so sick, but she had been fine yesterday, he was sure of it. "Are you okay?"

  
  


"Yeah, yeah, I'm totally okay, it's just a little cold, that's all," she lied. She had to deny how bad she felt, because she didn't want Max to spend his vacation worrying about her, and she knew that was exactly what he would do if he found out how truly miserable she was.

  
  


"Are you sure?" he questioned. He knew she was probably downplaying how sick she was, just so he wouldn't worry.

  
  


"Completely. It sounds a lot worse than it really is," she crossed her proverbial fingers and prayed he wouldn't see through her lie.

  
  


"Well, okay," he would accept that . . . for now. "So, what's goin' on? Anything interesting happening?"

  
  


"Absolutely not. It's so boring here alone. There's, like, nothing to do," she explained. "What's up in _California_?" she accented the word teasingly.

  
  


"Stuff. Nothing that's too incredibly fun, at least not without you," he said. Liz smiled. "I wish you were out here with me. I miss you already." he said quietly. 

  
  


Liz felt like crying. She loved him so much, and he was hundreds of miles away, and all she wanted was to curl up in his big, strong, loving arms and fall sound asleep. "I miss you too," she stated, almost a whisper. 

  
  


Max had to strain to hear her, her voice sounded strange, partly because she was all stuffed up, and partly because she was holding back tears. He loved that voice. He loved that girl. He wished he could be there with her, to keep her company this week, and to take care of her, because he knew she was a lot sicker than she was letting on. 

  
  


"So . . . what are you doing right now?" He asked, with a seductive tone in his voice. As if on cue, the Bloodhound Gang song, "The Bad Touch," came on the radio.

  
  


**_"You and me, baby, ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel........"_**

  
  


Liz laughed, then coughed, as she picked up the phone, walked over to her bed and sat down. " I'm sitting on the bed, talking to you, thinking of you, missing you," came her response, in an equally sexy voice. She smiled when she heard Max shift and clear his throat. "What are you doing?" she returned his question, curling her legs under her body.

  
  


Max looked around him, he was alone in the hotel room. His dad and mom had just left, locking the door behind them. ((Hmm . . . I guess they think I'm gonna be in here a while.)) He thought to himself, ((I shouldn't disappoint them, )) he laughed quietly.

  
  


"What?" Liz asked, wondering what made Max laugh.

  
  


"Oh, nothing, just thinking about something. And I guess that's the answer to your question, too," he told her. "I'm just thinking about you, thinking about kissing you, touching you, running my hands down your body, winding my fingers in your hair, kissing you some more, in other places . . . " he stopped himself, and paused. "I wish I was with you right now," he commented wistfully.

  
  


"And that's funny because . . . ?" she started for him, pretending to be mad.

  
  


"Well, no, I wasn't laughing at _that_ thought, it was _another_ thought," he started to explain, "a thought not about you, not really, well, actually it was about you, but not in a bad way, well, in a bad way, but not in a _bad_, bad way, more of a _naughty_ bad way, and then the part with my parents, no, not my parents, with you, in a bad way, just by themselves, but still, not in a bad way, or a naughty bad way, and . . . and . . . and, you're not even really mad at me are you? I've been babbling like an idiot for absolutely no reason, haven't I?"

  
  


"Pretty much," was all he heard, after a pause. "But hey, it wasn't all for nothing . . . it was really funny to listen to."

  
  


Max and Liz both laughed, then they continued talking, and talking, and talking, for hours, until Liz fell asleep while Max was telling her about Isabel's new boy-toy/life-guard whom she had met on the beach the previous night.

  
  


"Liz.....Liz . . . baby, are you there?" No answer. "Lizzie . . . " Still nothing, so Max had no choice but to try to get her attention. He took the phone away from his ear, put his finger on the 2 button, and held it down for about ten seconds.

  
  


"Hey, Max, what's up with that?!" a groggy, stuffy, confused Liz asked after being jerked from the only restful sleep she'd had since Saturday night. There was just something about Max's smooth, velvety voice; it could relax her like nothing else on Earth.

  
  


"Sorry sweetie, you back?" Max asked, concerned for his ailing girlfriend. He didn't know she was asleep, he thought maybe she had just put the phone down, or zoned out or something, he hadn't wanted to wake her up.

  
  


"Yeah. Sorry about that, I just didn't get much sleep last night. I was listening to you, but then I started listening too intently, and the next thing I knew, you had managed to lull me to sleep with that story about Isabel fake drowning, or something like that . . . "she tried to explain why she had just conked out while her boyfriend was in the middle of telling her a story. She felt really bad about this.

  
  


"It's okay, really. I didn't mean to wake you up," Max paused and Liz sniffled. "Listen, Liz, I know you're not feeling well," Liz started to protest, but Max kept talking, "so I want to let you go, so you can rest, or relax, or do whatever you want, okay?"

  
  


"But Max, what I want is to talk to you . . . " Liz whined. She was thoroughly enjoying her relaxing conversation with her sweet, compassionate lover.

  
  


Max felt the same way, but more than anything, he wanted Liz to rest and get better. It gave him a strange, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of his beautiful angel being stuck at home, miserable, with a horrible cold. "I'm serious about this."

  
  


"If I _must_ . . . " she pouted, and she heard Max smile on the other end of the phone. "I love you Max," she said with sincerity and passion.

  
  


"I love you too, Liz," her boyfriend replied with equal feeling. "I'll call you later, okay? Please get some sleep, I know you've gotta be tired." He heard Liz groan, and added, "I mean it, Liz."

  
  


"Okay, I will. Call as soon as you can, kay?" Liz asked in a tiny, innocent voice, which brought a broad smile to Max's face, and a warm, tingly feeling to his heart.

  
  


"I promise. Take care sweetheart........." he said as he got ready to hang up.

  
  


"Yeah, right. Have fun in sunny California . . . without me," she told him, playfully.

  
  


"Not possible, baby. Way not possible." He said affectionately into the phone, as he got up and walked over to its cradle.

  
  


Liz laughed, which caused her to cough. "Bye."

  
  


"Bye."

  
  


They both terminated the connection at the same time, each missing the sound of the other's voice, already.

  
  


((I need medication . . . )) Liz thought as she glanced at the wall clock opposite her bed. It read 12:36 p.m. She moaned, fell back onto her nest of soft, fluffy pillows and, after quite a while of tossing and turning, she finally fell into a shallow, but peaceful sleep.

  
  


********************

  
  


Outside, it was a calm, lazy day. The sun shone brightly from its perch high in the midday sky, a group of colorfully feathered birds stayed tucked away in their cozy nooks of a big tree, chirping sleepily every once in a while, and one of Roswell's most secluded back roads was even more isolated than usual as a tall, spiky-haired figure lumbered slowly down the dry, hot, dirt road just outside the 'Desert View' trailer park, kicking rocks as he dragged his feet. 

  
  


((Okay, I have two options: I can spend my entire Spring Break alone, until Maria comes back from Albuquerque; or I can suck it up, swallow my pride, and go ask Liz if she wants to do something.)) Michael Guerin thought as he moseyed his way down the lonely stretch of road that took him by his former residency. He let his mind wander back to his life just a few short months ago, back to living in that cramped, dark trailer with Hank, the foster father from hell. The mere thought brought a chill to his veins. He sped his pace up. ((I wonder if Liz is busy right now . . . ))

  
  


********************

  
  


As Liz drifted into a deeper, heavier sleep, images flashed through her mind. Shimmering stars zoomed by her as she floated weightlessly through a dark, endless pool of blackness. There was nothing to anchor her down, nothing to steady her hovering body as she coasted silently toward a blurry, white abyss. She could see nothing but the blinding brightness of the white; feel nothing besides the feather-light wisps the stars made as they shot past her; she could hear nothing except the deafening silence, all around her, that made her ear drums ache; and she couldn't escape the nauseating feeling of impending danger that invaded her mind, taking over all of her motor functions. She quickly began to panic, her heart pounded dangerously against her rib cage, as her breaths came quick and sharp in her dry throat. She was nearing the malevolent, shapeless void more rapidly now, she could feel the blistering heat scorching her sallow, pale skin. Beads of sweat collected on her forehead as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Her vocal cords released a bloodcurdling, ear-piercing howl as the nothingness engulfed her tense, motionless body. And in that second, the world stood still.

  
  


********************

  
  


Michael turned into the alleyway behind the Crashdown café, and jogged the last few steps over to the ladder that lowered from Liz's fire escape. He pondered for a second what he should do next. Was it his place to just climb up and knock on Liz's window? Or should he call out her name, to let her know he was there, so she could decide whether or not she even wanted him to come up? He decided that neither of these choices was really his style, so, in true Michael fashion, he let out a shrill, high-pitched whistle, signaling his arrival. He waited for a second, no answer. He whistled again, still nothing. He started to turn around, figuring she was either busy, or not at home, and he could just come by later or something. He took a step toward the entrance of the alley, and froze when he heard a loud, heart-stopping scream come from Liz's window. All thoughts of right and proper flew from his mind as he ascended the cold, iron ladder in one fluid motion. He vaulted over the side of her balcony and bolted to her window. He looked inside and what he saw tore at his heart. Liz was laying in bed, clutching a heavy blanket to her chest, thrashing and writhing violently, with a look of complete terror on her face. She screamed again, and Michael was in the room. He hurried to her side and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently, trying to break her free of the obviously anguishing nightmare she was having. He touched her forehead and quickly recoiled his hand; her skin was on fire, sweat pooling on her pillow. As he continued to shake her rigid body, she cried out again, her eyelids twitching. Her whole body trembled when he started to shout her name. He was panicking now; he didn't know what to do with the unconscious, quivering heap of Liz that lay tangled in the sweat-soaked sheets of the bed in front of him. He bowed his head for a fraction of a second and shut his eyes. He needed to calm down, or he would never get Liz out of her fever-plagued sleep. His mind wandered back to the time that he was in her position, practically comatose, burning up, and convulsing uncontrollably. He had majorly terrified everyone around him; they had all thought he was dying, or something equally terrible. But now it was his turn to be terrified for a friend, and to make matters worse, he was all alone, there was no one to help him pull Liz out of this. He looked up at Liz's clammy, hot face once again. Then, out of nowhere, tragedy struck, as Liz Parker sucked in one long, labored breath, then, stopped breathing all together. Michael's eyes went wide, and all the color drained from his face, as he pressed his shaky fingers to her throat. He felt around for a pulse, but didn't find one. He felt the room start to spin, and the oxygen supply diminish, as he looked at the lifeless body of his best friend's girlfriend. ((No!!)) he thought, ((She's more than that, she's my friend too . . . and this just isn't acceptable.)) He drew in a breath and placed one trembling hand on Liz's heart, the other, on her forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of the debilitating fear and sadness that threatened to strip him of his logic, as he thought about Liz, and only Liz. He concentrated on her still heart, and slowing blood, rather than the uncertainty of whether or not he could actually make his powers work for him this time. He imagined her thickening blood starting to flow again. He pictured the life substance coursing through her veins, to her arms, legs, brain, and heart. Then, as it filled her major arteries, he made the muscles begin to contract and relax, contract and relax, over and over again, until, fueled by the now smoothly flowing blood, her heart started to beat slowly, but steadily on its own. Once he was satisfied that she had a pulse, he moved his hand over slightly, and focused now on her deflated lungs. He envisioned rich oxygen filling them, and carbon dioxide being released. He continued this until she was once again breathing on her own. He then put both his steadying hands on her head, and visualized her brain starting to think again, starting to become conscious, starting to wake. He removed his hands and opened his eyes; he looked down at Liz, and her own eyelids were groggily fluttering open. She peered strait into her savior's deep brown eyes, and silently thanked him with all her heart. She knew what had happened, and even though she was still very shaken up, she was also extremely proud of Michael. He had put his insecurities aside and had done what needed to be done. Without a word, Liz sat up and hugged Michael tightly around his neck. He squeezed her back just as tightly, delighted that she wasn't dead. "I think this at least deserves a free milk shake or something . . . " Michael said quietly, with a hint of laughter in his voice. 

  
  


When Liz let go, she smiled and replied, "You can have however many free milk shakes you want." They looked at each other and knew for sure, that this meant they were truly friends, now and forever.

  
  


End of Part 1

   [1]: mailto:redmax@bellsouth.net



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